


The past is now part of my future; the present is well out of hand

by catmanu



Series: the ivantoine saga [4]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Closet Sex, FC Barcelona, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, addressing the elephant in the room for a hot second, and i do mean extremely, extremely light daddy kink, ivantoine's back back again, redemption arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21800632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catmanu/pseuds/catmanu
Summary: Antoine sighed.  “I need to do better.”“So do all of us, I guess.”“Yeah, but…I need to prove it…prove that I deserve to be, you know…that I’m worth it…”“You are worth it.”Antoine frowned and licked his lips.  “Make it better, daddy,” he whispered, suddenly shifting gears and tracing a finger up Ivan’s thigh. “It was such a shitshow. I wanna forget.”
Relationships: Antoine Griezmann/Ivan Rakitić
Series: the ivantoine saga [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1521227
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	The past is now part of my future; the present is well out of hand

**Author's Note:**

> -This fic takes place after Barça's 2-0 loss against Granada in September, which began with Granada scoring in the second minute. It was a horrible game and depressing to watch. So this is yet again a fic I started right after a game but didn't finish for months *laugh-crying emoji* This ship is trickier to write than you would imagine!
> 
> -The title is from "Heart and Soul" by Joy Division.

The loss hurt, like losses always did, but this one felt worse than usual. It wasn’t just their loss, or how mediocre they’d all been against Granada, or having to sit on the bench _yet again_ watching his game go by without him, his muscles almost burning from wanting to _get out there_ and _run._

No, it was the way things were going lately, with this team he’d always loved and worshipped suddenly not finding room for him; as soon as pre-season had ended, everything was just _different._ So much was strange these days. He tried hard not to let this show on his face, but when he looked at photos and videos of himself from training sessions, he realized he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

It was like a midlife crisis, he thought as he took a sip of the rum and coke the bartender had given him for free. He didn’t really like it, but this night required alcohol. In real life, he wasn’t even close to anything you could call middle-aged, but for a footballer, well…He was getting past midlife, really. Most of his friends were.

They were all so past-midlife, all these teammate-friends he had dreamed of playing with till he retired, that they had left the hotel bar by that point, but for some reason Ivan was still sitting there with the rum and coke. He didn’t mind being alone, even though Marc had pointed out _when do you ever sit at bars drinking alone? Are you okay?_ There were things on his mind he couldn’t possibly tell any of them.

Antoine. 

Antoine and his empty bottles of Corona there just a few tables away with Clement and why hadn’t he kept up with French? Was it too late to start over? Maybe some Duolingo on the bench? He couldn’t understand what they were saying and he wanted to _know_. Antoine and his Coronas and his French were all on his mind.

He stared down into his drink till he went cross-eyed and it blurred.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and the owner of the hand sat down next to him. Antoine’s strategically ripped joggers, Antoine’s black shirt from his brother’s clothing line. Antoine.

“You guys have to speak Spanish now,” Ivan said, but it came out a little slurred. Maybe he was more drunk than he’d realized. He couldn’t remember how many rum and cokes the bartender had given him. “No French allowed at the bar. It’s a rule.”

“Are you hallucinating?” Antoine said. He’d brought another Corona with him. “You guys? ’S just me here.”

Ivan blinked. Clement was gone. It was just him and Antoine.

“Why are you still here?”

“I don’t know, I saw a lonely old guy at the bar, I thought I’d hit him up, maybe get a sugar daddy…” Antoine giggled and took a sip. Ivan wanted to take the bottle away from him. It wasn’t responsible to drink so much, especially not someone like Antoine who knew for certain he’d be starting in the next game. 

“Your net worth is higher than mine. You could be my sugar…baby?”

“Not a thing,” Antoine said. He took another sip of his beer and then his whole mood changed. It was almost like he’d collapsed on the inside somehow. He slumped on the stool and put his head in his hands for a moment. Ivan would have put his arm around him if they were in private. 

“…’m still here cause I’m sad about today. And I…figured you’d get it.”

“Mmmm,” Ivan said. He didn’t want to commit out loud to feeling anything.

Antoine sighed. “I need to do better.”

“So do all of us, I guess.”

“Yeah, but…I need to prove it…prove that I deserve to be here, you know…that I’m worth it…”

Ivan closed his hand over Antoine’s right there on the bar top briefly before remembering where they were, and he spoke from depths of his heart that he didn’t even know he had. “You _are_ worth it.”

Antoine frowned and licked his lips. “Make it better, daddy,” he whispered, suddenly shifting gears and tracing a finger up Ivan’s thigh. “It was such a shitshow. I wanna forget.”

Ivan didn’t appreciate the way his heart had sped up. “Your table full of Coronas wasn’t enough for that?”

“They can only do so much. If I wake up tomorrow and my mouth tastes like your—”

Ivan’s eyes had never been so wide. “Woah, _shhhh,_ Antoine, someone might hear!”

Antoine smirked. It was kind of a crooked smirk, probably because he was drunk, but a smirk from Antoine was a smirk from Antoine no matter what. “You’re the one who gave me a handjob in the bathroom…in our locker room…”

The way they were staring at each other right now was palpable, and Ivan’s cock twitched in his tight jeans. He was done denying it, and maybe getting close to done feeling weird about it: If he were in charge of the world (and if he’d brought lube to the bar), he’d throw Antoine down onto the bar top and fuck him raw and make him scream and beg for Ivan to come insi—

“Okay. My room.” He slid off the stool.

“Why yours?”

“It’s a floor below yours, and I don’t want to wait any longer than I have to.”

*

The elevator dropped them off at the 6th floor and to Ivan, whose room was all the way at the other end and around a corner or two, the hallway seemed like a great place to get this started. He picked Antoine up—the little guy was so solid that it was tricky to get a good grip on him—and began walking down the hall with Antoine’s legs wrapped around his waist.

“What are you gonna…If someone sees us what are you gonna…?”

“I’ll drop you.”

Physically, his weight training had left him more than adequately prepared to carry Antoine down the hall. In other ways...Antoine was kissing him as they walked, sloppily, rubbing his stubbly cheeks against his own facial hair. He thought back for a second to the devastation of the goddamn World Cup final and couldn’t believe this was where his life had taken him. 

“ _….mmmh_ ,” Antoine slurred in-between kisses and accidental nose-bumps, “you’re… _hot…pretty hair…”_

“Not as pretty as yours,” Ivan murmured. He was a self-admitted fan of his looks, but there was no point in lying.

“…I _like_ you…”

 _I...I like you too_. Not like he’d say that out loud, he didn’t think he could, and anyway it was probably the Coronas talking and not Antoine himself, so he should probably just not think too much about it.

“ _Hurry_ ,” Antoine said, “daddy…I want you to do things to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Things…Anything you want.”

“I _will_ , baby. I will.”

“I just want to forget today.”

“I know.” The next sloppy kiss involved Antoine shoving his tongue firmly into Ivan’s mouth, and that was _it,_ they were next to a room that said HOUSEKEEPING on the sign on the wall and Ivan took them in there.

The door hadn’t even shut fully behind them when he pushed Antoine up against the wall. As much as he wanted to keep holding him, there were so many other parts of Antoine he wanted to touch, too. It would be nice to have more than two hands with this guy, he thought for a second.

“Daddy wants your shirt off,” he whispered, and Antoine obediently pulled it over his head and tossed it onto the floor. Ivan instantly pressed his mouth to each warm nipple, kissing each till it hardened. He ran his thumb over the strip of skin just above Antoine’s waistband. Antoine rocked against him, already pretty hard despite all the Coronas. He wrapped his arms around Ivan’s back and then ran his hands up his neck and into his hair. Ivan kissed him, wet and deep, shivering at the vibrations of Antoine’s _mmmm_ s against his lips.

“Hey…you should grow your _fucking_ hair back out,” Antoine hissed. “Like it was when you were in Sevilla…I want something to pull.”

“When did you get so demanding?”

“ _Baby boy wants what he wants_. You know that.”

“Well...I’ll make sure he gets what he wants. What _does_ he want?”

Ivan felt like he was getting drunk off of Antoine’s sloppy kisses. His lips. His tongue. “I want daddy to make me come. Really, really,” and his teeth came down on Ivan’s lip, “ _really_ hard.”

The impulse popped into his mind and expanded till it was the only thing he could think about. _Suck his cock, Ivan. Come on, do it_.

“Oh, you will,” he said between kisses. He slid his thumbs underneath Antoine’s waistband and pulled—together, the two of them got Antoine’s pants around his ankles. He looked down and smiled at Antoine’s cute, thick little cock, which was getting thicker and redder and absolutely begging to be touched. He tugged on it a few times just to watch Antoine’s lips part, then took a deep breath and slid down his stomach, kissing as he went, and then—

Antoine gasped as Ivan sucked him into his mouth. His palms slapped against the wall. Ivan took him by the wrists, pressing his hands firmly against the cold, smooth surface behind them. With his lips wrapped loosely around the head of Antoine’s cock—suddenly getting fully hard in his mouth, it felt so warm he just wanted to _keep_ it in there—he let his tongue glide over the slit. Just like he’d thought about once. Well, twice. Well…

More than twice.

With the third sweep of his tongue he tasted the little bit of saltiness leaking out and without telling them to his hands tightened around Antoine’s wrists and without realizing it was going to happen he moaned a bit around Antoine’s cock just from tasting him like that. Antoine’s hips jerked and he slid further into Ivan’s mouth. He curled his fingers around Ivan’s wrists and held on with that strong grip of his. Ivan moved back, wrapping his lips around the head of Antoine’s cock again and swirling his tongue over and over the moisture that was steadily leaking from him now.

“G-god, Ivan, _Ivan_ , where’d you learn how to—”

Ivan let Antoine’s cock fall out of his mouth, leaving a trail of wet on his chin. He didn’t particularly want it out of his mouth, but he had to address this. “You’d never answer that if I asked you,” he said. “So why should I tell you?”

This didn’t stop Antoine. “This is so weird. I always thought you were lowkey homophobic.”

Ivan felt the discomfort of his cheeks turning red. “Could you stop talking?”

“Maybe even _highkey_ homophobic. You’re kinda confusing.”

“Could you _please_ stop talking?”

Antoine stopped talking. But now Ivan had something to prove. He took Antoine as far into his mouth as possible—Antoine gasped in a strange, strangled way—and pulled on his hips, hoping he’d get the message. He did, and he began fucking into Ivan’s mouth, one hand now in his hair to steady himself. Ivan grabbed Antoine’s thighs and pushed them farther apart and scooted closer. He wanted to devour him, to drown in the scent of him, to hear those broken moans over the sloppy sounds of his own mouth.

That same impulse from before came back, telling him to do something else to Antoine, and he remembered that night in the Wraith—as if it wasn’t replaying in his mind many times a week—remembered Antoine saying _I think I’d let you fuck me_ —remembered wanting to throw him down on the bar earlier and do _just that_ for the entire place to see—

He licked his index finger without waiting any longer and worked it in-between those two works of art—Antoine’s perfect ass, warm and sweaty and _perfect_ —and when it brushed over what he’d been bravely aiming for he wasn’t sure if he or Antoine shivered more.

“Oh my _God,_ ” Antoine cried. “Daddy…”

The little hole clenched as Ivan circled his finger over it. His lips were getting tired, and he couldn’t believe this was what he was doing right now, but Antoine was fucking wildly into his mouth and there was no way he wasn’t close.

“Daddy…I want it inside me—”

Ivan gave his tired lips a rest. “Don’t be so greedy. You’re lucky to have daddy’s finger at all.”

“Inside me, _inside_ me…” Antoine gasped. The little hole seemed to widen underneath Ivan’s finger just a bit, like he was trying to suck it in. Ivan ran his tongue along the pulsing vein in Antoine’s cock and then wrapped his mouth back around it. Antoine grabbed his hair. “Don’t fucking tease me, daddy, _please_ …”

And just like that, he groaned and came without warning. Ivan had fully intended to swallow, but it was so unexpected that he coughed and pulled back at the worst moment and got a whole warm faceful of Antoine’s come instead. It felt uncomfortable and a little embarrassing and while Antoine was still softly moaning above him he reached for Antoine’s discarded shirt to wipe his face off.

Antoine caught him doing it. “Did you really have to…” he panted, “…use my shirt?”

“I did.”

“I should have known you wouldn’t swallow.”

Ivan sighed. “Antoine, _fuck,_ will you _please_ stop with all that? It’s not helping anything.”

“You’re right,” Antoine said softly. “I’ll—here.”

He pulled Ivan back up so they could lean against each other. Ivan felt the sweet little guy’s heartbeat, fast and hard and steady against his chest. _I did that,_ he thought.

“I know you want to cuddle but like…my cock’s about to rip a hole in my pants here,” he said, taking Antoine’s wrist and pushing his hand against the shameless bulge in his pants, rubbing against it just a bit to torture himself. To flatter Antoine. To show him how much he fucking _wanted_ him.

They wound up sinking to the scratched-up grey floor, where Antoine drunkenly fumbled with Ivan’s pants until Ivan helped him out. And then Antoine jerked him off, slowly but firmly with Ivan’s head resting on his shoulder. It was scandalous how _loving_ it felt. It made Ivan’s heart beat fast for reasons that had nothing to do with Antoine’s warm fist wrapped tightly around his cock, with his little hums, with the smell of sweat drying on his neck.

Ivan let go and stopped thinking about anything else and moaned against Antoine’s soft skin.

“Shhh, shhh, daddy, _shhh_ ,” Antoine said, over and over, and then added, “Will you come for me?” and when Ivan managed a _Yes yes fuck yes I’m—soon—_ Antoine kissed his way down Ivan’s abs and took him into his mouth.

There was no mess that way, and there was still nothing like Antoine’s mouth, but for a second Ivan missed being in his arms.

“Well…” Ivan said once Antoine had licked him all clean and come back up for air, his voice a little shaky. He felt like his heart might never slow down. “That was…”

“Love the two Cs,” Antoine mumbled.

“The what now?”

“The two Cs,” Antoine said again, and his mouth was curving up in that damn smirk. “Corona and come.”

“Jesus, Antoine…that’s fucking weird. Don’t say that again.” There was no such thing, apparently, as a moment’s peace with Antoine Griezmann. 

“It’s real funny when you pretend to be all grossed out. You just put your finger on my assh—”

“Okay, _okay!_ Um…so…where are we going now?

“Your room. It’s closer,” Antoine laughed, and Ivan was surprised to realize he was a little relieved. He’d thought maybe Antoine would want to end the night right there since he’d already gotten what he’d said he wanted out of it.

They got up together, wobbly, laughing about being wobbly. They readjusted their clothes. Antoine made a face as he slid his sticky t-shirt back on. _I’ll use my own next time, Antoine, I’m sorry._

“Carry me, daddy?” he asked, and Ivan did just that, sleepily stumbling down the hallway with the warm weight of Antoine in his arms.

It felt like it took forever to reach his room. He dumped Antoine onto his bed right away, and headed for the shower, but just before turning on the bathroom light, he paused. He’d probably regret this in the morning, but instead of showering he went back over to his bed and stripped. Antoine was watching him, his eyes half-closed.

Ivan began undressing him, too.

“Mmm, daddy….” Antoine said as Ivan peeled off his blue underwear. If he had the energy to get turned on again, the little sticky precum spot from earlier on the front of them would do it for sure. “Want you…” He held out his arms.

“You’ll get me,” Ivan said. He turned off the light and slid into bed with Antoine.

He could have wondered _how_ they’d do this, where each of them would go in the bed, but there wasn’t time. Their legs tangled together instantly and their arms followed, wrapping around each other in unison. As if they’d planned this. As if they slept together naked every night and were old pros at it.

“Hey, Ivan?”

Ivan realized Antoine was always careful to pronounce his name just the way he did, instead of going for the Spanish pronunciation like everyone else. He had never noticed before. Antoine was… _good,_ that’s what he was. He was good.

“Hey, Antoine?”

“…’member when you said you didn’t cuddle with friends?”

Ivan blushed in the dark and took the back of Antoine’s head in his hand, stroking his wild, slightly sweaty curls.

“I do remember it, and it’s true. I don’t.”

Ivan knew Antoine was smiling and he could tell exactly what the smile looked like. It was his big, wide, bratty smile. _What the hell is he about to say to me?_

“So then what am I?”

The question was like a punch in the gut, or a kick in the ribs or something. A kick in the balls, maybe. _You’re the biggest reason for my existential crisis_ was the honest answer. _I don’t know, I wish I knew, I think I want to know_ was another one.

“Drunk,” he said instead.

“ _Laaaaaaame_ ,” Antoine said, his voice getting soft. He was clearly close to falling asleep, and Ivan kept his hand in his hair, stroking it, weaving his fingers through the curls. “You’re like…the most afraid person I’ve ever met.”

“Bullshit, I’m not afraid of anything.”

 _"Okayyyyyy_ , daddy,” Antoine said. “Don’t be afraid of me though…just don’t be.”

Ivan didn’t know how to respond to that. Or any of this. He just held Antoine closer as they settled into sleep.

Something crossed his mind as his eyes closed.

“Hey, Antoine.”

“Mmmmmm.”

“Hey, Antoine.”

“Hey, Ivan?”

“Did I help you forget?”

There it was, he knew Antoine had that smile on again, even though they were both barely awake.

“Forget what?”

*

For a second Ivan had no idea why he felt so _content_ when his alarm went off in the morning. But only for a second.

Apparently neither he nor Antoine had moved during the night. They were still curled up against each other, their skin sweaty and warm from the closeness.

Antoine’s eyes cracked open. He rubbed them slowly and Ivan felt worried about his reaction—when he saw where he was would he freak out?

“...morning...” Antoine said instead, a sleepy smile stretching across his face.

“Good morning,” Ivan responded.

“Just so you know...” Antoine said. “You have the cheesiest smile right now.”

Ivan rolled his eyes. He didn’t even feel like being embarrassed. “Just so you know...you’re kind of cute when you’re being an asshole.”

And they kissed. Even though neither of them had brushed their teeth the night before. Even though the last thing Ivan had done with his mouth was suck Antoine off.

They kissed soft and fond and familiar and Ivan remembered Antoine drunkenly saying _I like you_ in the hall the night before.

Maybe it hadn’t just been the Coronas talking.

So his existential crisis was far from over. But as far as crises went, maybe he could get used to this one.


End file.
